Valley of Green Glass Doors
by Tsuki-no-oni
Summary: “I just don’t think that you’re telling me everything that’s going on here.” Sareth. In Prog.


Valley of Green Glass Doors

Rating: M

Summary: "I just don't think that you're telling me everything that's going on here." Sareth

Disclaimer: Labyrinth. Until a short while ago, I couldn't even spell it. I no own, kk?

_Hello everyone! It's been so long since I've written anything. I know that I haven't completed other stories, but I wanted to write this really badly. Hopefully it's appreciated—I've been trying to write stories better than I have in the past, and care more about them. Don't mind my OCs, but they're crucial to creating an effective fanfiction. I haven't done anything on this site in so long! Eh, but I suppose school will do that to you._

_Just a note about this story—I'm going to incorporate some concepts from _Sandman_, but not enough to consider this a crossover by any means. Simply little tidbits, no characters or big plot devices. On the title, "In the Valley of the Green Glass Doors, there are Rooms but no Walls" is a word game where you have to guess the rule and respond with a statement of your own. Other than that, I'd say that my allusions are pretty self-explanatory! Ciao, everyone._

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**Chapter One: Tang of the Dreaming**

Average days are never remembered. Since nothing remarkable happens, our brains have no reason to commit our actions and words to memory. We remember fragments and a general chronology of events, such as what we had for lunch and if we had homework in fifth hour, but overall we don't recall details of the day.

Sarah's trip to the underground had been anything but an average day. She could remember the tiny details of costumes and pebbles on the ground. If someone had cared to ask her, she could have told them exactly how many jewels Hoggle owned, what types of jewels they were, and how they had been mounted on necklace chains and pin backings. Although she could remember the entire trip perfectly, there was no reason to visit the memories frequently, and thus they passed into obscurity. Unlike an average day, they were not muddled with time—but rather, they passed into the mercurial and constantly changing fabric of dream-stuffs: present and viewable in her mind's eye, but otherwise questionable and inconsistent.

She found herself facing endless average days, with nothing to remember and nothing remarkable to report. Falling back into a routine of clipping articles about her mother, actress Linda Williams, and attending high school, Sarah aged.

* * *

As they crowded together and stared at the aboveground through the tiny orb that they had been forced to share, they crowed at their miraculous luck. A disillusioned dreamer, removed from both above and underground interaction. She was pretty, and she had learned the art of selflessness from the King of the Goblins—not the most likely teacher of such morals, but appreciated nonetheless. It looked as if she was trying to transfer her adventure into the Dreaming as well, which made their task all the easier. 

"When are we going to get her?" Curiosity.

"Hush! You'll alert the other Watchers." Irritation. Excitement.

"Don't tell me to hush! I was just asking if I could go get her!" Indignation.

"How dare you speak back to—" Anger. Wrath.

"Sshh…ssh, calm, young ones." Patience. Peace.

"I'm hardly a young one any—" Correction. Indignation. Impatience.

"You're ageless; it doesn't matter. This argument has been futile. If you want to go and get her, then go and get her. But do it the right way, understand? We'll follow behind you." Assertion. Resignation.

"All right! Leave this to me!" Excitement. Elation. Impatience.

* * *

Sarah Williams awoke on Thursday morning at six AM, turning on her shower as she prodded her face unenthusiastically in the mirror. She scowled bleary-eyed at the barely noticeable bumps across her forehead, contemplating the consequences of expelling them from her face before she went to school. Deciding that the effort would only detract from her appearance in the long run, she pulled her pajamas—an oversized t-shirt—over her head and stepped into the shower. 

As she scrubbed at her scalp and allowed the water to beat life back into her body, she shivered.

_What, is there a draft? But I closed the door, and the window wasn't open…_

She rubbed her hand across the steam on the door, squinting to see where the cold air had come from. Being unable to detect the source, she stepped back to wash the soap out of her hair.

_Augh!_

Jumping away from the water as much as she could, she stared at the temperature dial in disbelief. She had turned it three-quarters through the hot side of the dial, and frigid water was pouring from the faucet head. Darting a hand through the icy downpour, she turned the dial the rest of the way.

Waiting a few minutes that she couldn't spare, she experimentally put her hand beneath the faucet.

_What's going on_? She thought, pulling her hand away before she was burned. _Is someone…doing laundry? At six in the morning?_

Perhaps her dad was running the dishwasher? She turned the dial back a bit and waited for the water to cool, allowing the ends of her hair to rinse in the downpour as well as she could without putting her skin beneath the water.

The water turned abruptly freezing. Sarah sighed, and cast about to recall any reason why she shouldn't be late for first hour that day.

_Oh my God…today's Thursday!_

It was the first eventful day that had been planned for weeks. Sarah was a Junior, and had been the understudy president of the Drama Club at school until the previous president was forced to transfer with his parent's job. The school put on an annual community play, and it had been undecided until Lee left. Sarah had become the emergency president, and therefore the director of the big show. There was only one play that she would naturally have chosen.

_First hour are Labyrinth auditions!_

She took a deep breath and plunged her entire body beneath the freezing shower head, scrubbing the shampoo out of her hair as quickly as she possibly could. Jumping from the shower and grabbing a towel, she shook her hair out in it and wiped the icy droplets off her body. Sarah flung open the door of her bathroom and ran across the hall into her bedroom, eyes scanning for the clothes she had laid out the night before. It had been a complex process, choosing what to wear—she didn't want to come off as too conservative or too arty for her cast, nothing to scare them away after she gave them their roles.

She wondered if anyone decent would arrive to play the Goblin King. Sarah had some great ideas for sets…she would have to speak with the stage crew.

* * *

"Why didn't you do it? She was unprepared, right there!" Irritation. Impatience. 

"She ran off before I could. I didn't think she would use the water." Regret.

"Now she's got Aboveground clothes on. We won't be able to do anything until she takes them off again." Anger.

"It's not my fault! I couldn't tell what she was doing!" Indignation.

"Not your fault? You say that so often, I wonder when something really _is_ your fault?" Admonishment.

"Stop it, young ones. There is no time for such bickering. We must watch this one closely…the others have been adequate, but this one has an extra advantage. If we wish to move forward with our plan, then we must not act rashly." Patience. Peace.

"How simple you make it sound." Sarcasm.

"I know not to do things fast—that's why I decided I would wait." Excitement.

"When the pieces are in place we will strike—not before or after. You know that." Patience. Peace.

"Of course! We all know that." Acquiescence.

"Then there should be no more disturbances. You will go and fetch her instead." Command.

"I was waiting for your faith in this asinine child to wear thin." Arrogance.

"Hey!" Outrage.

"Hush. We have no time for arguments now—we must watch her carefully. She seems to be dreaming once again." Patience.

* * *

Sarah stared at the pending cast, discreetly trying to make sure that she didn't have anything on her teeth from the toast she had grabbed on the way out the door. The people were talking calmly, some that knew her casting her smiles and faces. Sarah had been recently appointed as head of the club, and while she knew most of the people present, she had never spoken very long or spent much time with any. During rehearsals, she usually read; after, she went home to finish her homework and recite monologues and poetry to her mirror. 

"We're going to begin, if everyone's here," she called, making herself heard over the dull roar of the buzzing crowd. They gradually quieted as people shushed one another.

Sarah produced her battered and worn copy of _Labyrinth_, the rag pages yellow around the edges. The print was raised off the surface, twisting and turning in a chaotic maze of text through the three acts that the story was composed of. She took a deep breath to compose herself—these people were no different from an audience. If she intended to lead them, she would have to act as though she were a leader.

"We are going to perform a play called Labyrinth. It calls for six main characters and about ten minor characters, and chorus extras. There's no music, but I've spoken with the conductor and he thinks that he can arrange a small score for scene changes and dramatic effects.

"The main character is a young woman who's selfish and childish, who wishes her unwanted son away to the Goblin Kingdom. However, when the Goblin King takes him away, she realizes that she really didn't want to give away her baby. She must then solve a long and complicated maze, overcoming many struggles until she arrives in the palace of the Goblin King. There, she demands that her son be returned since she's solved the labyrinth. The Goblin King is forced to give him up, and the mother and son return home.

"I know that it will be a stretch for the stage crew to create a labyrinth out of backdrops and props, but I think that the overall power of the play will outweigh any technical problems we encounter. Now, to begin the auditions I'm going to ask everyone to separate into two crowds of guys and girls. From there, we'll split up into smaller lines and try scenes. Understand?"

There was murmuring, and everyone generally complied with her orders. Sarah directed people to separate into two lines of main character auditions and supporting, and then stood back to see who had joined which of the four lines in the room.

"How about we have Ashaleigh and Bret read scene 54 first," Sarah instructed. The pair obediently flipped their manuscripts open and found the correct scene.

"My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great," Ashaleigh began.

"Stop!" Bret commanded, voice fitting Jareth nicely for what little he knew of the character. "Think of what I'm offering you. Your dreams,"

"You have no power over me."

Sarah twitched noticeably at the lack of emotion in the line. She waved her hand. "That's enough," she said, scribbling out Ashaleigh's name on the list. She made a little star next to Bret's, and then looked up at the remaining faces. "Julie and Bret, why don't you read scene 12?"

Bret flipped through to the scene, and Ashaleigh gave a moody huff as she relinquished her script to Julie.

"I wish that the Goblins would come and take you away," Julie began in a spirited tone, "right now!"

Bret stepped forward, glancing through the stage directions and choosing to ignore a majority of them. "Hello," he said, his voice lilting.

"You—you really are the Goblin King! I…I want my baby back. What did you do with him?" Julie took on an appropriately panicked tone, glancing up from her script to give Bret an accusatory stare.

"He's in my palace, just beyond there," Bret said, gesturing in the open air with his left hand.

Julie looked up, pausing before the next line. "There?" she asked, looking above everyone's heads into the distance.

"Beyond the labyrinth," Bret continued, looking in the same direction as Julie.

"I want him back," she insisted.

Sarah, who had been transfixed by the performance and was superimposing the factual details of the scene on top of the high school students before her, realized that they had gone far enough and cut them off. "Very good," she said, making large stars next to both names on her list. "Now…why don't we have Andrew and Sam try the same scene?"

* * *

Just after the first hour bell rang, and Sarah was packing the scripts and her notes back into a bag to sit in her locker, Ashaleigh approached her. 

She was wearing a short skirt and a low-cut tank top, sandals flopping on and off the backs of her feet as she walked, although the buckles and straps on them seemed as if they were designed for tying down small paperweights. Ashaleigh had flawless, hairless skin and knew it. She went tanning twice a week and was usually a crisp golden color, bleached-blonde hair piled into a messy yet somehow neat pile on the back of her head. Her accessories always consisted of exotic and large dangling earrings and innumerable purses. It seemed that every morning, she emptied an entire container of eye-shadow and -liner onto her face, with half a stick of lipstick and half a tub of foundation. She was beautiful, yes…but it was a fake, plastic beauty, standing next to Sarah's basically _au natural_ appearance. Her trip to the labyrinth had dissuaded her from sitting before her vanity and applying makeup, although she did sit at her vanity when she wanted to speak with her friends.

"Sarah," she purred, picking up a script before Sarah could reach for it. She riffled through it, stopping on a random scene and looking up at the impatient director. "I wondered what you thought of my performance,"

Sarah glanced down at the floor, trying to think of a kind way to tell her that she was horrible. Ashaleigh was accustomed to receiving large rolls not because of her acting talent, but because she had been dating the previous president of the drama club. One of Sarah's prerogatives in taking over the club had been to cast people in the rolls that their skills won them. She glanced up at Ashaleigh, reaching for her script.

"I thought that it could use a little feeling, and a little tone change," she said truthfully.

Ashaleigh sniffed disdainfully, refusing to release the script she was holding. "I wondered if you would let me read a few lines again, and perhaps tell me what your vision saw in them…so that I could read them again. I didn't know much about my character or the point in the story that I was asked to read…I thought that was unfair."

Sarah nodded. "You're right, I should have let you read the twelfth scene. Why don't you try that, and I'll help you with the emotion?"

Ashaleigh brightened, lowering the script and allowing Sarah to see that she had been staring at the lines the entire time. She then turned and picked up her purse, drawing out an ink pad and a stamp from it.

"I have Mr. MacCollum's signature stamp, so we can pretend that he signed us out of class if we're late."

Sarah sighed, and nodded again. It seemed that Ashaleigh had already planned to read lines—convincing Sarah had been the only variable in her plans.

"Start where Julie did, please. I'll read the part of the Goblin King myself."

Ashaleigh cleared her throat and dropped her purse where she stood, striking a regal pose and saying quite demurely, "I wish that the goblins would come and take you away…right now."

Sarah stared at Jareth's line, wondering what she would say about the emotions and energy needed for the former. "Hello," she purred, doing her best to imitate Jareth's danger-dripped voice.

Ashaleigh lifted her head and said in a haughty tone, "You, you really are the Goblin King. I, I want my baby back."

Sarah cut her off. "That's really far enough for now," she said. "Ashaleigh, this scene is full of tension. The audience should almost be able to see it between the actors. Your line—the first one—it has to be powerful. You're frustrated, you're angry, you're desperate. You don't know what will happen when you say it."

She stared at Sarah like she had grown a second head. As Sarah instructed her to be more animated, she nodded like her head was on a string. "I wish that the goblins would come and take you away, right now," she repeated.

Sarah shook her head. "No, no! It's powerful! I wish that the goblins would come and take you away," she demonstrated, pausing for effect, "right now!" she punctuated. Ashaleigh didn't respond.

"So I'm not saying it right?" she asked eventually.

Sarah stood, plucking her script from Ashaleigh's unsuspecting hands and packing it away before she could grab it again. "I think that auditions are over. I already have my casting in mind. Your persistence is appreciated, but…maybe you should ask Geoff to help you practice some short monologues. He'll have some good advice."

She turned, walking towards the door.

Ashaleigh couldn't let this happen. She had held the lead role every year since she joined the drama club—her position as alpha female was going to be usurped by the scrawny and acne infested sophomore Julie Lemmington. Never mind that Sarah was a junior and would be graduating at the end of the next year, never mind that next year would have other directors with other opportunities. When Ashaleigh Clemmens wanted something, she got it, or the rest of the world brought it to her later on bent knees.

But she didn't know what to do. Before Sarah could reach the door, she gave a long-shuddering sigh and said, "I wish that the goblins really _would_ come and take you away," she paused, staring at Sarah's back. "Right now."

And just like that, the door before Sarah ceased to be a door and became something entirely different.

* * *

It was one matter to wish one's brother away to the Labyrinth—it was an entirely different affair to be wished there yourself. 

She had found herself standing before a large gate, carved out of sandstone with gold fixtures. It most certainly had never seen any part of her high school. The denial phase passed quickly—Sarah wasn't going to delude herself by imagining that a large stone gate in the middle of an archaic city had been tucked into the basement of the building. She thought wryly about particularly troublesome students being locked in the Underground, and then dismissed any humorous notions entirely. The core of the current matter was that she had been wished away, and the wisher was unlikely to do anything to remedy that fact.

Not as if, even if Ashaleigh solved the Labyrinth and overcame Jareth all to save Sarah out of the love of her wide and generous heart, Sarah would give her the lead role due to her amazingly admirable character.

She also knew that she likely had a limited amount of time to come up with a plan before Jareth arrived to claim her as the newest acquisition of the state. As things had last stood between them, he was unlikely to turn her into a goblin. Sarah hoped that she wouldn't be asked to solve the labyrinth again…though it would be a free chance to meet her friends in person.

As if he had sensed the directions of her thoughts, a voice from behind her rolled her name through the air. "Sarah."

She turned, staring at Jareth without surprise. There hadn't been much time to consider, so he must have known she was coming before she arrived. Running off wouldn't have done anything to dissuade him from displaying his hospitality, apparently. Something strangely neither positive nor negative flitted inside of her at the sight of him, unchanged as it was. "Hello, Jareth."

"It seems that someone's…wished you away," he commented conversationally. "A pity it wasn't your parents, or I could keep you for a longer while this time."

Sarah didn't respond to his jab, but asked, "Is Ashaleigh going to solve the Labyrinth?"

"Ironically, if the wish does not stem from a blood relation, it has no power or effect," he explained, a hint of amusement in his expression. She got the impression that he was toying with her, and became irritated and indignant. What right did he have to yank her out of school and into the Underground?

"Then why am I here?" Sarah demanded.

Jareth shifted, tapping the back of his leg with a riding crop. He stared at her for longer than she would have thought normal, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Twisting his wrist, Jareth produced her battered little red copy of _Labyrinth_ from the air.

"I heard my name mentioned this morning," he asserted.

Sarah waited for more, and when it wasn't forthcoming, said, "What does that have to do with anything? We're putting on a play."

"Any chance of my auditioning to play myself?" he asked snidely.

She rolled her eyes. "I am _not_ here because you wanted to audition, Jareth."

"No, you're not," he agreed. "You're here because I wanted to warn you about two pressing items of information."

"Such as?" Sarah prompted. He gave her an amused look now, and she knew that he was making fun of her. Jareth had always been a good conversationalist in the past. For whatever reason, he was obviously in a mood to stall and see how long it took before she became truly angry. Sarah tried not to snap too quickly at him, if only to thwart his satisfaction at getting a rise out of her.

"First, concerning your little play. That book is no ordinary book, Sarah. It would be unwise to put on a performance that originated in the Underground." She began to interrupt and ask him what he meant, but he held up a hand (the one with the riding crop) and stopped her. "The second article of business is that there are strange magical entities which have connected themselves to your aura. I'm not sure yet what they are—they could be anyone with low-level magical abilities. But they're from the Underground, and they may be dangerous."

She tried to look as though she understood him completely, nodding and staring at him in the hopes that he would elaborate on his own steam. As he was trying to irritate her, Jareth was silent and watched her nod, corner of his mouth twitching at his great success in making her look like an angry fool.

"You obviously have no idea what I've just said," he commented.

Sarah glared, wanting very much to punch him. As he was holding a riding crop, she considered the consequences of doing so. There were two possible directions that punching him could go, and she wasn't in the mood to endure either one presently. Jareth, recognizing his victory and sensing that the bee was ready to sting, decided to be cooperative and informative, in his own reserved style.

"That book was created to draw _you_ into the Labyrinth. Perform it if you must, but do change the words. I can't have myself being called away from my duties every few minutes because you're rehearsing."

Now she couldn't keep herself from speaking. "_What_? The book was created for _me_?"

Jareth shot her an amused look and said, "Of course. You didn't just buy it at a used book store, did you?"

Sarah thought. On the subject, she now couldn't recall anything about the origins of the play at all. It had always sat between her bookends, its cover had always been worn and threadbare, and she had always been trying to memorize the lines. She gasped, staring at him in horror. "Wh…when did I get it? Where did it come from?"

"I told you, it came from the Underground. The when and where is not important at the present."

If the when and where were not important, then something had happened that he didn't want her to know about. Jareth continued to speak without taking notice of her conclusion. She tried to pull her mind from the revelation of her timeless _Labyrinth_ and focus on his words, but the concentration was hard to manage.

"The second issue is more pressing. Should the presence turn out to be a powerful entity, you could be in danger."

"What could happen to me?" she asked, though the moment the words left her mouth she heard how stupid they sounded. Jareth gave her a patronizing look and decided to explain anyway. Obviously, his amusement had run thin and now his patience was teetering on the abyss of nonexistence. He had probably thought up an agenda for their meeting, and more likely than not Sarah's half of the conversation hadn't been factored into it, nor her lack of facts and consequences.

"The Underground is more than games and goblins, Sarah. There are creatures here that do not sleep. You have a very powerful position as a dreamer and due to your connection with me and my kingdom. Many beings could profit by winning you to their causes." He stepped closer to her, and since her back was against the gateway, she couldn't step back. Keeping eye contact, without the bantering tone in his voice, he said, "It would be in my own best interests simply to keep you here. That's why I jumped on the chance when that girl wished you away."

Sarah felt her heartbeat begin to pound, the noise hollow in her ears. She wondered if Jareth could hear it. Trying to look a lot less scared that she felt, she replied, "I would stay if I were sure that what you're telling me is the whole truth."

Jareth's eyes flashed. "Do you imply that I'm lying?" She had apparently shoved patience and amusement over the edge with her last comment.

"No," Sarah responded, trying to clarify. "I just don't think that you're telling me everything that's going on here. Since I'm not your prisoner, and you brought me here just to warn me, that means that you don't have any power in this meeting. I demand that you return me Aboveground."

He glared, as she knew he would. If there was one thing that irritated Jareth, it was being put in his place by someone he obviously considered inferior. Sarah didn't feel elated as she had in the past when she stomped gleefully on his ego—quite the contrary, she felt like a terrible person—but the reminder had to be voiced or he would never allow her to go home.

"What is it that you find so important up there?" he asked, surprising her.

"Huh?"

"When everything you've ever dreamed of and wished for is Underground…when your friends are here, why must you return? No one would send you away if you decided that you wanted to remain."

She was taken aback by the unreadable expression on his face. A light breeze blew several tiny wisps of blonde hair across his eyes as he stared at her, waiting for her response. Sarah wasn't even sure what to say—he was right, after all. There was just a core part of her that demanded she return, no matter how welcoming and perfect this place seemed. Somehow, she felt that if she decided to remain, she would be eaten up into the fabric of the Underground and cease to be able to return home, despite any wishes she might have.

"I just want to keep my options open, I guess," she said, after a long while of silence while she contemplated her answer. "I understand what you're saying, it's just that I want to finish some things Aboveground before I would even consider living anywhere else."

Jareth nodded, accepting her explanation. "Sarah," he said, looking into his hand as he formed a crystal and then looking back up at her face. "There may be trouble Aboveground. If you ever need anything, you may call me through this."

The crystal dripped from his hand, and she held out her palm to accept what he was giving her. A weight settled in the center of her hand. Jareth sighed, regaling her with one last bit of information. "You may not have enough time to finish anything Aboveground, Sarah."

He stepped back, until her eyes told her he had faded into darkness along with the entire Labyrinth landscape behind him. And then she was walking through the doorway and into the hall, en route to her second hour. Behind her, a confused young girl sputtered and rubbed her eyes.

* * *

Ashaleigh was sure that Sarah had disappeared. She closed her eyes and rubbed the lids, not trusting what her vision was telling her. Maybe she was tired? When she opened her eyes, Sarah was standing there, looking down at something in her hand. 

"Well? What did you think?" Ashaleigh demanded, voice shaking as she tried to ignore the optical illusion.

Sarah turned and stared at her, not saying anything. Her left hand was clenched into a fist, her knuckles white around whatever she was holding. Ashaleigh wondered if she had failed to notice the dirt on the bottom of Sarah's jeans earlier, and decided that Sarah must not have washed them since she last wore them.

"What did I think about what?" Sarah asked, her voice different. She sounded far away and distracted, and it irritated Ashaleigh. She stood, facing the director with anger and allowing Sarah to see just how irate she was.

"I said the line the way you wanted me to, didn't I?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

Sarah's brow lowered into a frown, and then smoothed again as if she were struggling to remember something Ashaleigh had said the previous week. "Oh," she commented, voice still distant. "It was perfect,"

"Then do I have the part?"

The young director looked down at her hand again, and then up at Ashaleigh. "No," she said in her normal tone. Sarah looked as though she had visibly returned to herself. "I liked your effort, but I think that it was a lucky stab in the dark. Do call Geoff and see if he'll give you some voice advice,"

With that, Sarah turned and left, a furious young prima donna standing in an empty classroom behind her.

* * *

A/N: thanks very much to Tina for catching my continuity error! (bows) I don't use a beta, but I comb over these things myself and I miss a lot of things. thank you a thousand times over for being a considerate reader and pointing out the problem in a nice review. speaking of--you all know that I like those, right? (smiles)  



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